


What Brings Us Together (Always Watching)

by SenjuMizusaya



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Adventure, Attempt at Humor, But Nico/Percy is definitely major throughout the entire story, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Nico, Endgame Percy/Hermes, F/M, Female Percy Jackson, Friendship, Gen, Genderswap, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Multi, No Heroes of Olympus, Obsessive Behavior, Post-PJO Canon-Divergence, Romance, Rule 63, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 00:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11520378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenjuMizusaya/pseuds/SenjuMizusaya
Summary: In which Percy Jackson tumbles into her demigod-hood by incinerating her least favorite teacher, holding a sword-gone-pen, and doubting her own sanity until her best friend reveals his goat-heritage just before a car crash.Camp Half-blood awaits.(She darts around with curls like a raven's wing and the ocean's eyes. And always, he watches her. Always.)





	What Brings Us Together (Always Watching)

**Author's Note:**

> I do, in no way, own Percy Jackson; the series and characters belong the Rick Riordan! I only own what you do not recognize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, I've loved the PJO series for along time, though I never really managed to write a fanfic for it. I'm attempting to write this in a different style than usual, so I'm sorry if it sucks. This first chapter is too close to the book for my liking, though it should slowly differ more and more (though still following Canon events). This story is, all in all, a take on how I think the books would've been written had Percy been a girl.  
> I love fem!Percy. I just really like a strong, female lead, and quite honestly I think it's easier to write from a girl's POV as well... Do note that if you're looking for a story about the pretty girl with awesome powers so amazing she's almost undefeatable right from the start... This is "just" Percy Jackson, though as a girl.

_"""Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood. If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life. Being a half-blood is dangerous. It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways."""_

 

* * *

 

I don't think anybody wanted to be a half-blood. It's one of those unfortunate things that just _happen_ , like arriving too late in the cafeteria that one day they actually serve edible cake, only much, _much_ worse.

My name's Percy Jackson. 

I know, I know. An odd nickname for a girl. But it was either that or Persephone, my full name, and there was no way I'd ruin what little chance I had at friends by introducing myself as a goddess. Not that anyone at Yancy Academy would know who she was. Yancy is a private boarding school for troubled kids, where I attended until very recently. 

Am I a troubled kid? 

Most certainly. 

Any point in my ridiculous, short and miserable life would be valid proof of my troubling existence. Things really went bad on a field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where we were supposed to look at Greek and Roman stuff for Latin class. 

Don't get me wrong, things were already bad before, but then it really went to hell. I already shared my dorm with a boy; apparently my name had sounded like a boy's name and there weren't enough rooms for more girls. Then, there were the numerous fights I can't say I remember starting, as I've been accused of (though I cannot deny my engagement in them.) My grades were horrible, and somewhere midterm an odd man had freaked me out and I somehow managed to get stuck in a broom closet for a full day when avoiding him. They served cake in the cafeteria that day.

And through it all, I struggled with ADHD and dyslexia.

Imagine twenty-eight mental-case kids crammed in a yellow bus during a heatwave. The air-conditioning is obviously broken, and at least half of them are on a sugar high or are sneak-eating lunch despite the fact that we ate breakfast only two hours ago.

I know. Torture.

Yancy field trips tended to be. A nifty tip would be to pretend being sick and get away from the whole trip. I'll have to be honest; I suck at pretending being sick. 

My only hope was Mr Brunner, the Latin teacher. Not even my best friend and roommate was much of a hope by then. He was being bullied, and I couldn't do a thing since I was on probation. I had already decided that I wouldn't even step a toe out if line this trip, which is harder than it seems since bad things always _just happen_ to me during field trips. 

This trip, I was determined to be good. 

Boy, was I wrong. 

All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, a redhead kleptomaniac girl with freckles that might've been sprayed cross her face with liquid Cheetos, hitting Grover in the back of the head with her peanut butter sandwich.

He was an easy target; scrawny, crying when frustrated, and he must've been held back a year or two. On top of that, he was crippled. He had a note for PE and all, saying he would never be able to attend because of a muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny as well, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

He dodged another chunk of peanut butter, and I stood up. "That's it," I turned around to face Nancy's grin, fist balled. 

I could already imagine the crunching of her nose and the headmaster's infuriated eyes. He'd pop a vessel, or kill me. Maybe both.

"Don't," Grover warned me. "You're already on probation, and besides, I like peanut butter." 

I sat back down, huffing and scowling, and stared out of the window. Looking back on it, I really wished I had decked her there and then. 

Mr Brunner led the tour. 

We saw marble statues, black-and-orange pottery, pieces of building with detailed carvings that could apparently tell us a sorts of things. He stopped extra long at a grave-marker, a _stele_ , and talked about the markings on the inside. I tried to listen, partly because it was interesting and partly because Latin was the only subject I didn't totally suck at, though people around me kept talking. Every time I tried to tell them to shut up, Mrs Dodds, the other teacher chaperone, would give me the evil eye. 

What really blew my mind was that everything had survived for thousands of years. 

Mr Brunner kept talking about funeral art. 

It wasn't until Nancy snickered something about the naked guy on the stele, that I turned around, glaring, and hissed, "Shut up." 

It came out louder than I meant to. It always did.

The whole group laughed, and Mr Brunner abruptly stopped his story. "Is there a problem, Miss Jackson?"

My face was totally red. "No, sir."

He fired some questions at me, and luckily I actually knew the answers. Those moment were very much welcome to be more frequent. 

The best part was Nancy getting busted as well, though. Mr Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying something. He had radar ears. 

Mr Brunner told us; "Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made Kronos disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

We all drifted back outside. Some guys were pushing each other around, acting like total doofuses, and the girls held their stomachs. Not for the first time, I was glad Grover wasn't like the immature guys in my class. If he had been, I would've done something rash and gotten kicked out long ago. 

And then, just as I was thinking about lunch, I was called back by Mr Brunner.

I knew what was coming.

I told Grover to keep going. Then I turned toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?"

Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go- intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything.

"You must learn the answer to my question, " Mr. Brunner told me, and I blinked, bemused. 

"About the Titans?"

"About real life. And how your studies apply to it. "

"Oh." I pretended to understand. 

"What you learn from me, " he started, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson. "

I wanted to get angry, this guy pushed me so hard.

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!'" and challenged us, sword-point against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C in my life. No, he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumbled something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner took one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He told me to go outside and eat my lunch.

Outside, black clouds were gathering. The weather had been odd ever since Christmas (Global Warming?), with massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires, and lightning. I wouldn't be surprised if a hurricane was brewing.

And to top it off, nobody was noticing anything. 

Some guys were pelting innocent pigeons, and Nancy Bobofit was trying to pickpocket from an old lady's purse. Obviously, Mrs. Dodds wasn't seeing a thing. 

"Detention?" Grover asked when I sat down next to him on the edge of a fountain, away from the others. Maybe bypasses wouldn't think we were with them. 

"Nah," I shrugged. "Not from Brunner. He asked me to try harder. Just wish he'd lay off, I mean, I'm not a genius." 

Grover didn't reply at first. He stared up towards the dark skies swirling above, thinking very deeply, and then sighed. Just as I thought he'd tell me something deep and philosophical, he asked; "Can I have your apple?" 

I didn't have much of an appetite at the moment, so I handed him it. Just as I was about to unwrap my sandwich, Nancy Bobofit and her ugly friends passed by and she dumped her lunch on Grover.

"Oops," she grinned, showing crooked teeth that had never seen braces. She must've thought stealing had become boring. 

The counselor had told me billion of times to stay calm, take a deep breath, count to ten, and _then_ think about what to do with a clear mind. But I was so mad I saw red. My mind went blank and at the same time haywire. My ears were filled with the roars of crashing waves, and then- 

And then Nancy Bobofit wasn't in front of me anymore. She was sitting on her butt in the fountain, drenched, and screeching; "Percy pushed me!" 

I couldn't remember doing that. Mrs Dodds materialized next to me. 

There was a blur during which Grover stared at me as if I had done something absolutely unbelievable, and Mrs Dodds assuring Nancy a new T-shirt etc, etc, etc... Then, she turned to me with a triumphant look in her eyes, uncurled a crooked finger in my direction, and uttered; "Now, honey."

"I know," I grumbled irritably, thinking that Nancy deserved whether had happened. "A month erasing textbooks." 

It wasn't the right things to say. Never guess the punishment. 

Grover tried to cover for me, which was very admirable, especially considering he was scared pantless of her. She hardly payed him any attention, as if he were an irritating slug.

Inside the museum it was almost empty, the halls almost void of the echoey voices. I guessed she'd want me to buy Nancy a new T-shirt myself, but instead I found myself following her deeper into the museum. When we reached the Greek and Roman halls, she stopped. The gallery was empty. 

The look in her eyes freaked me out. They were evil. 

 _'She's a teacher,'_ I thought to myself, nodding at the logic. _'She's not going to hurt me._ ' 

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she informed me, and growled. Like, _really_ growled. You know, like a rabid dog would do. I would know, I once had a shady neighbor keeping rabid squirrels in box underneath his bed. 

"Yes, ma'am," I agreed, just to be safe, and tried to look apologetic.

"Did you really think you'd get away with it?" She demanded with a sneer, and I wondered what on earth she was talking about- Maybe she discovered the secret candy stash I had been selling outside my dorm? Or maybe she had realized that I had stolen her pencils when I had lost my own? 

"No, ma'am, never," I shook my raven locks. I felt the need to inquire _exactly_ what the problem was. "B-but what-"

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," she snarled, and tugged at the leather cuffs of her jacket. 

"No, no, of course not," I agreed quickly, taking a step back. 

"It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess now, and you will suffer less pain." 

Maybe she'd realized I had gotten my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet, without ever reading the book? Maybe she'd make me rewrite it, or take away the grade? Or worse, read the book. 

"Well?" She demanded, crossing her arms. "Confess." 

I hesitated, stared at her for a moment, and decided that if it got even odder, I'd make a run for it and tell Mr Brunner she was freaking me out. 

"Time's up," she then announced, and my mouth dropped open at what happened then. 

Her eyes glowed like barbecue coals (the type you get in the supermarket, the cheap ones), her fingers stretched into talons, and her black jacket melted into leathery wings. She wasn't human. She was some shriveled hag with monstrous features, a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was zooming down towards me with the full intent of slicing me to ribbons. 

Maybe she'd even throw me into the soup for lunch tomorrow, and turn the majority of the school into unwilling cannibals. 

And then things gotten even weirder, because Mr Brunner wheeled into the room with a pen in his hand. 

"What ho, Percy!" he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air.

I caught the pen midair, and dived away just as her talons sliced the air next to my ear. In my hand, the ballpoint pen wasn't a pen anymore, it was a bronze sword. The one Mr Brunner used on tournament days. Mrs Dodds spun around with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees were jelly. 

My mind was a frenzy.

She lunged. 

I slashed. 

The sword tore through her like a knife through butter, and she exploded into yellow dust in the air, demolished on the spot. Her screech died out, though I still had the nasty feeling that her red eyes were watching me. I turned around, stumbling a little, only to find that Mr Brunner was nowhere in sight. The sword in my hand was an ordinary ballpoint pen again, and I was all alone. 

I would've blamed my lunch (magic mushrooms and all that jazz), but I hadn't eaten anything. Maybe I was so hungry I was hallucinating? 

Had I gone mad? 

It was a very disconcerting thought, and unfortunately it echoed in my head much like the footsteps echoing in the hallway as I walked.

Outside, it was pouring. Grover was still sitting at the fountain, though he now had a museum map tented over his head. Nancy was still soaked, though now seeking cover, and her friend surrounded her. 

"I hope Mrs Kerr whipped your butt," she sneered wen I passed, and I stared at her. 

"Who?" I blurted out, and then continued on. I handed Mr Brunner his pen, thanking him, though he only gave me a worried stare. "There has never been a Mrs Dodds at Yancy Academy, are you feeling all right?" 

 

* * *

 

_"""I was used to the occasional weird experience, but usually they were over quickly. This twenty-four/seven hallucination was more than I could handle. For the rest of the school year, the entire campus seemed to be playing some kind of trick on me. The students acted as if they were completely and totally convinced that Mrs. Kerr -a perky blond woman whom I'd never seen in my life until she got on our bus at the end of the field trip- had been our pre-algebra teacher since Christmas."""_

 

* * *

 

I almost believed them. That Mrs Dodds was a fragment of my imagination. 

Almost. 

Grover couldn't fool me. He was an awful liar. 

A month later, filled with bad behavior on my side, resulted in the headmaster sending note to my mum. It was official. I wouldn't be coming back to Yancy Academy next year. Apparently calling a teacher an old sot was one step to far. 

Exam week came up, and latin ended up being the only subject I studied for. There was no way I'd forget Mr Brunner's faith in me, or his thousand-year-old eyes telling me to do better. 

The day before my final, I stalked out of my room with the full intention of talking to Mr Brunner. Maybe he'd be bale to give me some pointers. Or, at least I'd be able to apologize for the big fat F I was about to score in his exam. I didn't want to leave with him thinking I hadn't even tried. 

The door to his office was ajar, with a strip of light illuminating the wooden floor. I was three steps from the door handle when I heard voices inside the office. Mr. Brunner asked a question. A voice that was definitely Grover's said "...Worried about Percy, sir."

I froze. I'm not usually an eavesdropper, but I dare you to try not listening if you hear your best friend talking about you to an adult. I inched closer.

"... Alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a Kindly One in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too-"

"We would only make matters worse by rushing her," Mr. Brunner softly cut off. "We need the girl to mature more."

Rushing me? Needlessly to say, it was all very shady to me. 

"But she may not have time. The summer solstice deadline-"

"Will have to be resolved without her, Grover. Let her enjoy her ignorance while she still can."

"Sir, she saw her..."

Mrs Dodds. I _knew_ she had been real. And whatever they were talking about, suddenly I fully intended to believed my ex-teacher had really been a monster. 

"Her imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince her of that."

"Sir, I... I can't fail in my duties again." Grover's voice was choked with emotion. "You know what that would mean."

"You haven't failed, Grover," said Mr. Brunner kindly. "I should have seen her for what she was. Now let's just worry about keeping Percy alive until next fall-"

The mythology book dropped out of my hand and hit the floor with a thud. Everything went silent. My heart dropped to below my soles, joining the book. ' _Damn_ ,' I then thought. Heart beating against my ribs like a caged bird, I picked up my thick book and slid back against the wall. I slipped into the nearest classroom. 

I waited in there for what felt like forever. 

When I came back into my room, Grover was studying his Latin notes like he'd been there all this time. "You okay?" 

The next afternoon, as I was leaving the three-hour Latin exam, my eyes swimming with all the Greek and Roman names I'd misspelled, Mr. Brunner called me back inside. For a moment, I was worried he'd found out about my eavesdropping the night before, but that didn't seem to be the problem.

"Percy," he started softly. "Don't be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's ... It's for the best."

His tone was kind, but the words still embarrassed me. I mumbled, "Okay, sir."

"I mean ... " Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair back and forth, like he wasn't sure what to say. "This isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time."

My eyes stung. Here was my favorite teacher, in front of the class, telling me I couldn't handle it. After saying he believed in me all year, now he was telling me I was destined to get kicked out.

"Right, " I said, trembling. I wasn't sure whether it was betrayal or sadness, but whatever it was held a swath of anger as well.

"No, no, " Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying to say ... You're not normal, Percy. That's nothing to be-"

"Thanks, " I blurted out. "Thanks a lot, sir, for reminding me."

"Percy-"

But I had already stalked out of the door. 

 

* * *

 

I didn't have many to say goodbye to. There was only Grover, who I worried about (he wouldn't manage being alone next year, would he?), but it turned out he had coincidentally booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same Greyhound as I had, so we ended up heading back into the city together. 

He was nervously watching the aisle, scrutinizing all passengers daring to pass by. It occurred me he had always been nervous every time we left Yancy. I had always assumed it was because he was worried about getting teased, but there was nobody to bully him here. 

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. Flatly, I asked, "Looking for Kindly Ones?" 

Grover jumped so suddenly that I thought he'd fall from his seat. "Wha-Wha-What do you mean?" 

I easily admitted overhearing his conversation with Mr Brunner, and his eye twitched. For a moment, he turned his attention to gaze outside. For once, it was sunny. "How much did you hear?" 

I sat back more comfortably, much like I'd imagined Lucius Malfoy doing when discussing business and knowing he had won. "Not much. What's the summer solstice deadline?" 

"Look Percy..." He winced, and I arched an eyebrow for good measure. "I was really worried, y'know. I mean, getting into fights almost every day and hallucinating about demon teachers-"

"Grover-"

"I thought you were overstressed, I mean maybe you'd not want to talk about that with me, and there are no persons such as Mrs Dodds or ballpoint pens turning into swords or-"

"Grover, you're a very, very bad liar." I cut off bluntly, and his ears turned pink. From his pocket, he fished a business card and handed it to me. The script was murderously fancy for my dyslexic eyes, but after a while I managed to decode something like: 

 

_Grover Underwood_

_Keeper_

_Half-Blood Hill_

_Long Island, New York_

_(800) 009-0009_

 

"What's Half-"

"Don't say it out loud!" He yelped, alarmed, and I stared at him. For a moment he stared back, and then he seemed to remember how to talk. "It's my summer address."

My heart sunk, very much like the time outside Mr Brunner's office. In Yancy, everyone was a juvenile delinquent, though I had stood out because I had been a _poor_ juvenile delinquent and did _not_ come from a family of somebodies. I had never even thought Grover would've been from a family rich enough to afford a summer house. 

I felt glum, and muttered, "Okay. So, like, if I want to visit your mansion." 

There was a moment of silence. Then, he nodded. "Or... if you needed me." 

I gave him an odd stare. "Why would I need you?" 

It came out harsher than I meant to. 

Grover's face was suffused with red, blushing horribly right down to his Adam's apple. "Look, Percy, the truth if that I kinda have to protect you." 

I stared at him. All this time I had been the one to protect him from bullies, getting into nasty fights. I had even lost sleep, wondering how he'd go through the coming year without me! (Perhaps I'd have given him my illegal stash of candy to sell?) I furrowed my brows and scowled, was it because I was a girl? The thought riled me up.

I remembered Mrs Dodds, the freak-accidents in my life, the odd people who I met- "Grover, what are you protecting me from?" 

There was a great, grinding noise from underneath our feet, and black smoke poured from the dashboards, and I gagged when the smell of rotten eggs contaminated the entire bus. The driver cursed, and managed to steer the bus to the edge of the highway. After a few minutes of clanking around in the engine compartment, during which Grover seemed find going through his bag very interesting, the driver announced that we'd all have to get off. 

I was relieved. There was only so much time I could spend in there. I filed out alongside Grover. We were on an unremarkable stretch of road on the country side, with four lanes of pitch-black asphalt baking in the sun. Maple trees stops proud on our side of the road, while fields covered the other side like a blanket. An old-fashioned fruit stand stood out agains the low fields of corn. There were no customers, though I supposed it made sense since it was a pretty awful place to sell fruit. 

 

* * *

 

_"""The stuff on sale looked really good: heaping boxes of blood-red cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice. There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the biggest pair of socks I'd ever seen. I mean these socks were the size of sweaters, but they were clearly socks. The lady on the right knitted one of them. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarn. All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandanas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses."""_

 

* * *

 

I stared at them for a moment, shaking the feeling that all three old ladies were staring at me with their creepy eyes. I turned to Grover, only to see that his nose was twitching. 

"Grover," I said, dragging my fingers through my black curls to comb them down. "Hey, man-"

"Don't tell me they're watching you," he whispered. "They are, aren't they?" 

"Yeah, weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me?" 

"Not funny, Percy, not funny at all." 

The lady in the middle took out a long-bladed scissor, and for a moment I wondered if it really _was_  made of gold. I heard Grover catch his breath. "We're getting on the bus," he told me, desperate. "C'mon." 

"What?" I scrunched my nose up. "Dude, it's like a thousand degrees in there." 

"Come on," he insisted indignantly, and pried the door open. I stayed back, enjoying the relatively fresh air. The middle-lady wielded the scissor, and I swear I could hear the snip across the lanes of traffic across as she cut the electric blue yarn.

I wondered who the socks were for. Godzilla? Or maybe Sasquatch? Who knew, maybe for Nancy's ego? 

We were ushered back onto the bus by the victorious bus driver. As we drove on, I started feeling feverish. Grover didn't look much better, he kept shivering at that.

"Grover?" 

"Yeah?" 

"What are you not telling me?"

"Percy, what did you see back at the fruit stand?" 

A bird pooped on the window next to the guy in front of us. 

"A couple of old ladies knitting Godzilla-socks. Are they like Mrs Dodds?"

His expression was hard to read, but he shook his head and I relaxed back into my seat despite having a sinking feeling they were worse than Mrs Dodds. Finally, Grover scratched back of his curly brown head, and said, "Just tell me what you saw." 

"The middle one took out a pair of huge scissors and cut the yarn." 

He made an unfamiliar gesture with his fingers. His voice was as shaky as the cafeteria pudding when he continued, "You saw them snip the cord." 

I knew it was a big deal when he said it, though I didn't have a clue what he was blabbering about. 

"I don't want it to be like last time."

"Last time?" 

"Always sixth grade. They never make it past sixth grade."

"Grover," I said slowly, because he was starting to seriously scare me. "What the hell are you talking about?" 

"Let me walk you home from the bus station," he suddenly demanded, frantic. "Please, you have to promise." 

It was all very strange, but I nodded and said, "Yeah, sure. Is this a superstitious thing, or something?" 

He didn't answer. 

"Is somebody going to die, with all this yarn-snipping?"

He looked at me mournfully, like he was already picking the flowers for my grave. I wanted to tell him that he needed to just _tell me_ what was going on, but figured I'd I'd only get more cryptic half-answers, and I didn't need that at the moment.

Outside, a cloud resembling a cotton tuft obscured the sun. 

I ditched Grover as soon as we got to the bus terminal. 


End file.
